Body Double

by Alane Hudson

  But she wasn’t his employee. She’d done this for the girls in Colombia, and for Sarah, and yes, for the one million that Sarah had promised her. Of course, now that Sarah was so angry about the hospital incident, there was a good chance Sarah would refuse to pay her. Andrea had put her own life on hold, had put her heart in jeopardy—even suffered the wound of falling in love with a man she clearly couldn’t have. Blake’s money would at least get her out of her financial mess. With five million dollars, she could start a new life far away from the two men who had broken her heart.

  She dug her checkbook out of her purse while Blake spoke into the phone and asked someone named Carl to set up a wire transfer to an external account. He read off the numbers for her bank’s routing number and her account number into the phone.

  “Five million dollars,” he said. “That’s right.” He thanked the person on the phone and ended the call. “If it’s not there in an hour, let me know.”

  Andrea struggled to keep it together. She stood tall and squared her shoulders, ready to conclude her business with Blake Thomas.

  The garage door rose slowly with a mechanical rumble, revealing Andrea’s faded, old Ford Focus. The car that she’d been so happy to receive eight years ago now embarrassed her. After pretending to be a wealthy heiress and bride for the last two weeks, her true identity as a lower-middle-class social worker was revealed like Cinderella’s mouse-driven pumpkin carriage at the stroke of midnight.

  Her face burned with shame as she hurried to it, rummaging in her purse for her keys. This car didn’t unlock with the press of a button or her mere approach like Blake’s car did. She had to guide the key into the slot with her trembling hand.

  “Andrea, wait,” Blake said. Just as she got the door unlocked, he caught up to her and looked over the car, probably calculating her net worth in the triple digits. “Don’t run off.”

  “Isn’t this it? Isn’t this where we say good-bye?” Andrea started to cry. She couldn’t help it. Her shame and sorrow and love all coalesced into a cloud of pain inside her chest.

  “No! Jesus, babe. No.” He pulled her into an embrace. “We’ll get it worked out. Trust me. I’ll make Sarah see reason.”

  She closed her eyes and drew in his faint musky cedar scent, relishing it. This couldn’t be the end. It just couldn’t.

  “I’ll call you when we’re done,” he said, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Then I’ll swing by and pick you up. Assuming you want to stay at my place tonight.”

  She nodded, wiping the tears from her face. How could she not trust him when his presence was so comforting, his arms so safe? “Of course I do. Tonight and forever.”

  Sarah stormed into the garage carrying the knapsack stuffed with the clothes Andrea had brought with her in case Sarah’s hadn’t fit. She shoved the bag into Andrea’s arms. “Take off my dress and put on your own clothes.”

  Andrea stood stunned for a moment. “Okay. May I use your bathroom?”

  “You two look comfortable with each other. Change here.”

  “Sarah,” Blake said, “don’t be a bitch. Let her change inside.” He took Andrea by the hand to lead her into the house, but Sarah blocked the door.

  “Stay out of it, Blake. This is between Miss Busybody and me. She can’t go into my house.”

  “If this is how you want to punish me,” Andrea said, “fine.” She unzipped the dress and pulled the straps off her shoulders, then let it fall to the garage’s cement floor. Blake turned around and blocked any view of her from the driveway, but Steven had taken Sarah’s bags to the house and hadn’t yet returned to the car. No one could see her from the street or even from a neighboring house, but he protected her state of undress all the same. Andrea yanked a pair of jeans from the backpack and pulled them on, as well as the first shirt she found.

  “Shoes.”

  Andrea stepped out of the ballet-style shoes and stood barefoot on the cold cement. “Satisfied?” Her sneakers were at Blake’s house, but she had an old pair at home.

  “Not even close. Give me my rings back, and my debit card.”

  Andrea took the engagement and wedding rings from her finger and handed them to Sarah, as well as the debit card in her wallet and the duplicate driver’s license. “Sarah, listen. I’m sorry. I never—”

  “You’re fired.”

  Blake turned around, looking confused.

  Heat flooded Andrea’s face. She’d assumed, now that Sarah was back, that her job as power of attorney was finished. That probably wasn’t what Sarah meant. “Do you mean—”

  “The social worker position at The Lighthouse, yes. Don’t bother showing up.” Sarah slid the two rings onto her left ring finger before picking up the dress and shoes and storming back into the house.

  Though Blake had given her enough money to live on for perhaps the rest of her life, she’d looked forward to helping the shelter residents and couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

  Blake’s brow fell low over eyes that burned with fury. “She’s going to be sorry.”

  “Blake,” Andrea said, putting a hand on his arm. “This situation needs one rational person. Don’t let her goad you out of being that guy.”

  He brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead with his middle finger and trailed it down the side of her face, then leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll call you as soon as this is settled. I love you, Andrea.”

  With those four words, her heart swelled and she knew everything would be okay. “I love you too.”

  Blake kissed Andrea goodbye and watched her back down the driveway and drive off. He took a deep breath and went inside.

  He found Sarah in the kitchen, seated on one of the bar-height chairs at the counter and nursing a glass of golden liquid. He pulled out a chair beside her, picked up her glass, and took a whiff. Scotch served neat. He took a sip, swished the biting liquid around his mouth and swallowed, then set the glass down.

  “Go away, Blake.”

  He pulled the folded paper out of his back pocket and tossed it onto the counter. “We need to talk.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I amended the prenuptial agreement before we got married. Read it.”

  She picked it up and unfolded it. “Why would you amend the prenup? We agreed on everything.”

  “You neglected to tell me you were planning to divorce me. I wanted to sweeten the pot.”

  She moved the paper closer to her face and then farther away until she found the right distance from her squinting eyes, but then she set the paper aside. “I’m tired from traveling and trying to get drunk. What does it say?”

  Blake picked it up. “It says that if you stay in the marriage, I’ll donate five million dollars to The Lighthouse every year on our wedding anniversary for five years. If you stay for for ten years, I won’t ask for my half of that fifty-million-dollar wedding gift.”

  “You don’t get half of that.”

  “Ah, but I do. It’s a marital asset, received after our marriage was recorded.”

  Sarah drained her drink and went to the minibar to pour another. “So you’re basically paying me five million per year to stay married to you.” She lifted the decanter to him with raised brows, asking silently if he wanted one. He shook his head and held up one hand. “Ten years is a long time.”

  “By then, we might have a couple kids.”

  “Ha!” she said, taking her seat again and bringing the decanter with her. “You’re assuming I’d sleep with you.”

  “You don’t think I’d pay that kind of money simply to have my name on a legal document,” he said. “There is a catch. You won’t be able to take a lover, even if we’re separated. You have to stay faithful for the entire ten years.”

  “What?” Her green eyes glowed like miniature emerald suns. “You can’t do that.”

  “We already did. Andrea thought it was fair, and so she signed it on your behalf.”

  “All this time, you’ve been screwing her, and you tell me I can’t take a lover
? How is that fair?”

  “It isn’t. The no-lover clause began when we got back from the honeymoon, which was the original agreement you had with Andrea. We haven’t had sex since then.”

  She punched him in the shoulder but not hard enough to hurt. “I have a girlfriend, you asshole.”

  “It’s too late now. We’re married. You’re going to have to dump her.”

  “You bastard!” she screeched, launching herself at him with her fingers hooked into claws. He reacted quickly by grabbing her wrists and turning them aside, leaving her helplessly seated on the stool with both arms pinned to the counter top. She kicked him in the shin, but she was barefoot, so she hurt herself more than she hurt him.

  “Sarah, calm down. You’re the one who gave her power of attorney. Besides, your father won’t give you the fifty million until the marriage is completed.”

  She stilled. “What do you mean?”

  Blake eased up on her wrists, hoping that she wouldn’t attack him again. “The marriage isn’t completed until it’s consummated. That’s not something Andrea could do for you.”

  “Shit.”

  He shot her a grim look. “You’re so good for my self-esteem.”

  She glared at him for a moment, and then said, “All right. Let’s do it, then. You want to screw me over so badly, now’s your chance.” She tossed back her drink, breathed out loudly, clenched her eyes shut for a moment, and then slammed the empty glass on the counter. “Whoo.”

  “Listen, Sarah. We’re at a crossroads here, and we’re in a great position to go our separate ways with minimal fuss.”

  She cast him a curious but sharp glance. “Sounds like you’ve changed your mind about the notion of getting a divorce.”

  “Your dad convinced me. He made a suggestion that will solve our problems.”

  “What problems are those?” she asked drily as she poured herself another drink.

  “We’re in a marriage neither of us wants. Harold suggested I file for an annulment and avoid a divorce.”

  “On what grounds? We married for business instead of love?”

  “On the grounds that you refuse to consummate the marriage.”

  She sipped her scotch and considered him thoughtfully. “And that was my father’s idea?”

  “Yep. Ingenious, if you ask me.”

  She pursed her lips and tapped one fingernail against the cocktail glass. “No.”

  Blake scowled, not understanding why she would object. “No? Why not? Sarah, it’s perfect. With an annulment, we wouldn’t have to figure out who owes who what. You wouldn’t have to give me half of that fifty million bucks your dad promised you. It’d be like the marriage never happened.”

  “And then you can be with Andrea.”

  “Yeah, so? Why do you care?”

  She turned in her chair to face him fully. “Are you freaking kidding me? After what she did to me?” Though she more resembled the photos of Anna Gentry he’d seen, he could see her father in her too. As much as she claimed to despise him, she was acting just like him, and she probably had no idea she was doing it.

  “I know you’re pissed about the hospital, and we both wished we’d been the ones to tell you instead of Richard. What Andrea did, she did out of love and caring for you and your dad. She didn’t have all the information, and she had to use her own judgment and experiences. If that had been my dad, I’d feel grateful.”

  “Well, it wasn’t your dad. She shouldn’t have intruded.”

  Blake felt irritation heat his tongue. “Maybe, but what’s done is done. We could hammer it to death, but I doubt it’ll make you feel any better, and it certainly won’t change anything.” When Sarah said nothing, he continued. “Do you think she sat around thinking up ways to piss you off? Oh I know, I’ll try to mend her relationship with her dad. That’ll get her so mad, she’ll stay in the marriage with Blake just to spite me.” As the words came out of his mouth, he heard the ghost of Andrea’s voice calling him passive-aggressive. He took a breath and counted down from five. That wasn’t how he wanted to be. He wanted to be more direct, more honest. Like Andrea.

  “Let me see if I got this straight. If I go through with... it, I get my fifty million?”

  “We get the fifty million, and you split it with me when we divorce.”

  “If we get an annulment, I get nothing.”

  Blake shrugged. He didn’t see it that way. If they got the annulment, they all won. “There’s still the matter of your dad’s will.”

  “He wrote me out of it years ago. This marriage to you is my ticket.”

  “Is money more important to you than living true to yourself?”

  “The Lighthouse is more important to me than anything, Blake. Anything. And if I have to lay on my back under you to keep it running, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  Then he understood that The Lighthouse was to Sarah what Blake’s mom was to him. Family.

  She drained her glass and set it firmly on the counter. “Let’s go, baby. Upstairs.” She grabbed his hand and tugged, trying to get him to stand up and follow her.

  Blake didn’t want this. He didn’t want her, but going upstairs with her was the only way to make his point. She might pretend to be willing, but at the last minute, she would come to her senses and pull the plug. In fact, he counted on it. Then she would see reason. Then she would agree to the annulment. “All right.” He stood and let her lead him down the hallway and up the stairs. The alcohol was already starting to affect her, and she stumbled on a couple of the steps, cursing under her breath.

  “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right.” He pulled her to a stop and then picked her up in his arms.

  She gasped at first and then giggled as she flung her arms around his neck. “Ooh. Studly Do-right. I think Roxanne needs to work out more.”

  “Who’s Roxanne?” Blake asked, and immediately regretted it. Sarah’s lover, the one he suspected she’d been seeing all the time they were engaged. And he thought she’d been seeing a guy.

  “Rooooox-anne,” Sarah sang, trying to emulate Sting’s voice. “She hates it when I sing that song.”

  He reached the top landing and turned down the hallway to the master bedroom. “I’ll bet she’d hate to know what we’re about to do.”

  Sarah’s smile fell. “Leave her out of this. Put me down.”

  He set her down, and she brushed the hair away from her face before walking the rest of the way to the bedroom. She flung open the double doors so hard, they banged against the walls and bounced back. Blake caught them and closed them gently. When he turned around, Sarah was lying on her back spread-eagled, still fully clothed in navy slacks and a white high-necked blouse.

  “Okay, get it over with.”

  He gave her a crooked smile as he moved to the foot of the bed. “That’s not how this is going to go down, darling.” He knelt on the bed and began to caress her foot and ankle, sliding his hand up her calf under her trouser leg. “Do you want to take the pants off, or shall I?”

  She started to pull her leg away, but he stopped her with an “ah-ah-ahh.” He wasn’t any more comfortable with this than she was, but she was forcing his hand. “This is what you wanted, remember? We could solve this problem by agreeing to an annulment, but no. You want to make love.”

  “I want to consummate. That’s different.” She lay perfectly still, watching him with eyes filled with trepidation. “Fine.” She rolled off the bed to the side, unfastened her trousers, and let them fall, leaving her in light blue thong panties and the blouse. She resumed her position and squeezed her eyes shut.

  He crawled up the bed to lay next to her. Though she was a beautiful woman, she no longer looked like Andrea to him. She didn’t have Andrea’s warmth in her eyes, the coy smile, or the slightly crooked tooth in front that he found so endearing. She didn’t have Andrea’s perfect chin or her adorable nose, and those were certainly not Andrea’s sensual lips. The more he looked at Sarah, the more she resembled a poor imitation of the
woman who was, in his heart, his real wife. He slid his hand across her flat abdomen to her waist and down to her hip as he settled onto his side, leaning partly over her. Part of him wanted nothing more than to pull his hand away. It felt like cheating, though she was technically his wife.

  She flinched away from his touch and pinched her lips tightly together. Never had a woman responded to him this way, not even when he was a bumbling fourteen-year-old trying to get close to fifteen-year-old Maria Delgado at the school dance. She was obviously no more comfortable than he was.

  “Sarah, look at me.” When she didn’t react, he decided to try humor. He said in a mock-Schwarzenegger voice, “I am the consummator.”

  Despite her best effort to keep from smiling, she stifled a chuckle, but she didn’t open her eyes.

  He kissed her lips, wishing they were Andrea’s soft ones that yielded under his, but instead they were rigid. He tempted her to part them by running his tongue along the crease, but she stiffened even more.

  She turned her face aside. “Stop. Your face is prickly.”

  He moved his lips down to her chin, trailing kisses along her jawline to her earlobe while he explored her hip and thigh with his hand. Not only was Sarah not reacting to him, his own body was unengaged. If he couldn’t get a woody, he wasn’t going to convince her of the impending reality of this situation. He shut his eyes and thought of Andrea, feeling the warm skin of her thigh and hip, the slightly salty taste of her neck, and pretended her coldness was a game she was playing. Still, nothing was happening for him. Maybe skin against skin would help. “I’ll be back,” he said in his Schwarzenegger voice.

  Blake climbed to his knees on the bed to strip off his shirt and unfasten his belt and jeans. Once he had them down around his knees, he flipped onto his back, pushed them the rest of the way off, and kicked them to the floor. Being on the bed in his underwear, with her in that skimpy panty, he felt the mild warmth of arousal. “There. Now we’re getting somewhere.” He took his place again and continued kissing her neck, while he slid his hand up under her blouse toward her breast.